.
My camera is broken, and I am very, very sad. It seems to have developed the electronic version of a stigmatism. Everything is just a little blurry. And colors are being rendered wrong—everything is too much, too red, too blue, where did yellow go? The worst part is that it works intermittently, just long enough to give me hope, and then breaks again.
I took it to the store for repair, and they asked me what had caused these problems. I told them that my camera had been dropped many times on backpacking trips, but that I had also been dropped when I was a child and I’m still ok. The man there inspected my camera and told me that my lens is a bit wobbly. I told him that he’s not such hot stuff either and, besides, doesn’t everyone deserve to be loved?
The man at the store went off to do some paperwork, while I stared woefully at my camera for several minutes. I suppose I needed those last moments alone. When he came back, he patted the top of my camera softly, looked at me and said, “It’s going to be ok. We’re going to figure this out.”
I sure hope so. My camera will be gone for roughly four weeks. This means that I will not be able to photograph my trip to Hells Canyon. Really. I feel depressed just thinking about it. The good news is that they will be able to fix my camera, and there will be other adventures and other pictures. (She says grumpily to herself, arms crossed).
Ah, well. I am grateful for every trip we’ve had together, Nikkon D60. I lugged you along on many miles and have never regretted it. Even when people teased me and said you were too heavy, I stood up for you, because nobody puts baby in a corner.
Come back to me little camera, I miss you.
